


[Abandoned WIP] Street Trash

by Zeke Black (istia)



Series: Abandoned WIP [3]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Found Family, M/M, POV Vin Tanner, Young Buck Wilmington, Young Chris Larabee, Young Ezra Standish, Young J. D. Dunne, Young Vin Tanner
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 13:16:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1859400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/istia/pseuds/Zeke%20Black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teenager Vin Tanner has been living alone on the streets for over a year when he meets and goes home with a slightly older Buck Wilmington, who introduces him to Buck's own small family of street kids.</p>
            </blockquote>





	[Abandoned WIP] Street Trash

**Author's Note:**

> I intended this story to be established Chris/Ezra with Buck/Vin developing as events unfurled. While neither Josiah nor Nathan appears in this bit, they, too, were going to be teens living on the streets. I planned to have Chris and Vin rescue Nathan from a beating to echo canon events, leading to all seven hooking up. And, uh..."hooking" in other ways would likely have been a part of some of their lives, present or past, as they did what they needed to survive and take care of each other.

Vin stared around the dim room, ill-lit with the overcast light of a late fall afternoon straggling through a grimy, partly boarded-up window. The place had no furniture, just a couple of mattresses on the floor with crumpled covers dumped on them; he preferred not to think of how dirty they might be or where they'd been found before being dragged up here. A few orange crates scattered around held small items inside, but were bare on top to be used as seats. The room was chilly, with no source of heat.

For all its dirt and cold and barrenness, Vin was glad to be in the room, and grateful. The place was shelter from the pounding rain outside and, cold and damp as it was, it was several degrees warmer than any of the other spots he'd found to sleep in the weeks since he'd arrived in the city. Cleaner, too, since those spots had mostly been huddled in alleys near the dubious shelter of a dumpster or under bridges or in empty buildings that weren't just abandoned, but falling the hell down and open to the elements.

Beyond his gratitude for being welcomed into the most effective shelter he'd had in weeks was gratitude for the companionship he was being offered. His life had been lonely since his mother had died when he was five and he'd spent the next three years being passed between mostly uncaring relatives. He'd lucked out for a wonderful four years from the age of eight to twelve when a widowed great-aunt he hadn't even met before had taken him in. She'd given him the first love and attention and concern he'd known since losing his mother, and he'd adored her. They'd been a true family, the way he'd vaguely remembered families could be, and he knew she was the only reason he'd hung onto an understanding of love at all.

But she'd died suddenly of heart failure just two weeks before his thirteenth birthday, and he'd been thrown into the foster care system. He'd stuck it out for two years before he'd decided he'd be better off on his own, and left. More'n a year of seeing for himself, wandering, keeping away from the authorities in all their forms, had made him resilient and independent. But lonely, too, all over again. Now, at sixteen, getting close to seventeen, he reckoned he was sufficient unto himself, except for that danged loneliness. But he'd long ago resigned himself to not being able to do anything about that lack.

Right up until today and meeting a hearty, laughing, warm-featured guy, a street rat like him, maybe a year or so older than him. Vin had been in a cafe, making a coffee last, hoping for enough time to warm his bones and dry his damp clothes a little, when the guy had grinned at him from across the room, then joined him with his own coffee. Vin hadn't had to talk much because the other guy'd happily chattered nonstop while his smiling dark-blue eyes roamed appreciatively over Vin's body. Vin'd been flirted with before, but never quite as outrageously as this guy did it.

Hell, he'd even announced his name with a wink and a leer: "Buck." The guy made his own name sound like a dirty joke.

Damn near irresistible was what he was.

The throb in his groin under Buck's merry gaze while watching Buck's long fingers stroke the sturdy white cup had indicated his body was as happy with Buck's attention as his mind was as he followed along on the amusing ride Buck's chatter took him on. The warmth in Buck's eyes wasn't all sexual heat, either. He could see the concern in them, almost big brotherly in its gentleness as he'd probed, with what Vin figured passed for subtlety for Buck, into Vin's current living conditions.

Being open with people didn't come naturally to Vin. Sharing his thoughts and feelings, or the particulars of how he was living, was something he'd given up doing after his aunt died. He'd learned that most people who asked didn't really care; they were just looking for a weakness in him, an opportunity to take advantage. Buck, however, had a disarming openness that made it seductively easy to trust him. Buck just seemed--fucking hell!-- _nice_. A nice guy living the wild and dangerous life on the streets? Yeah, right.

Niceness didn't last long on the streets. Niceness was a luxury few occupants of the alleys and under-bridges could afford. Hell, nice got you killed.

Yet here was big, warm Buck Wilmington, who was obviously not only thriving, but downright happy. Sure, Buck's clothes were jeans worn to tears at the knees and a jacket that was too small for him so his long, bony wrists stuck out below the cuffs, and was too lightweight for the weather, anyway. He wore nothing under it but a faded black T-shirt, and his boots were scuffed on the toes and worn down at the heels. But despite all that, Buck didn't have the hungry look that made many street people into wolves, and there was an easy contentedness on his handsome face that indicated peacefulness with whatever his lot was.

It was impossible not to see Buck was happy for all his down-at-heel existence, and happiness wasn't something Vin had encountered much in this underworld. It was clear in the watchfulness of his eyes and his strong body that Buck was both aware of the dangers around himself at all times and capable of dealing with them, but it was also apparent he was at peace with whatever his life consisted of. Vin felt the pull of it, the beguilement of that sweet serenity. Aunt Nettie had exuded that same kind of serenity with her lot despite a life full of hard fucking work, few opportunities, and bad experiences that would've soured others.

He felt pulled to that familiar sweet warmth and contentment in Buck Wilmington.

And Buck made it easy. From smiles and roving looks, he progressed to small touches against Vin's hands on the table, handed out in the midst of Buck's expansive chatter and gestures. A boot nudged his own booted foot under the table. When he didn't move his foot away, the grin wreathing Buck's face broadened. Watching the blue eyes across from him darken as they stared into his for longer and longer periods, Vin let a flirtatious devil of his own loose, interjecting low words in his raspy voice that he knew some folks found sexy. His own grin grew as he watched Buck's irises dilate, and he wondered happily if Buck's worn jeans were getting as tight as his own. He suspected they were.

When the invitation to share Buck's current squat was offered, it wasn't a surprise. Vin felt comfortable enough with this easy-going stranger to have already decided to accept if an invitation were offered. Sharing a blanket roll with Buck promised not only warmth, dryness, and companionship, but sex that would probably be pretty damn hot all in itself. He wasn't fool enough to pass up that kind of opportunity.

Hell, just the chance to touch another person, nothing even approaching sexual, just human touch, wasn't something he wanted to pass up, rare as it'd been since he'd lost Nettie.

What was surprising was the way Buck issued the invite. The sexual warmth still glowed in his eyes, but the friendliness won out as he made it clear his offer didn't depend on sex.

"I got family I live with," was the way he introduced the topic, and he quirked a smile at Vin's raised eyebrows. "Just so you know. There's four of us. We been together a long while and I don't expect that to change any time soon. Shit, sometimes I reckon we'll still be living together when we're fossils rocking on the porch of the old folks' home and reminding each other to clean our dentures. We got into the habit of looking out for each other when we was just sprouts and it don't seem likely to wear off."

"Why you inviting me, then?"

"Well, now, that's simple." Buck's voice was as easeful as his bright eyes. "I'd love to jump your bones, and I'm getting the powerful feeling you'd love to jump mine."

Buck laughed at Vin's startled look. "Shyness ain't something I have much use for, as you might've noticed! So, if you wanted to share my blankets as well as the place we're calling home at the moment, that'd be mighty fine. But I want you to know two things. One is that my family comes first. No matter how hard a boner just the look and thought of someone gives me, I'd never take nobody home if I didn't think they was straight and wouldn't bring harm to my people. And second, you're welcome to come home and dry out for a few days even if you don't wanna share my blankets, or if the thought of doing it in a room with three strangers puts you off. I can understand that. Ain't never been shy that way myself, you understand, but I know everyone's not as shameless as me--or so I keep being told. Can't imagine why everyone ain't shameless considering the benefits, but there you go."

He gave another of those merry, at-peace-with-himself grins, and Vin couldn't help matching it. Ah, hell, the guy really was irresistible. The thought of three more strangers to deal with if he'd read Buck wrong gave him pause, but not for long. He knew anyone was capable of guile, even someone as apparently open as this guy, but he also had good reason to trust his own instincts in judging people. He was willing to take the chance that Buck Wilmington was exactly what he seemed to be because of the rewards those bold eyes and the charming voice offered.

So, here he was, in a squat with little to say for itself except for dryness and protection from the wind that was getting up outside and battering against the remaining pane of glass in the window. He'd come in with Buck, been introduced to Buck's family, then Buck and the blond guy, Chris, who looked about Buck's age, had gone out together to scrounge up some dinner. Buck had said they wouldn't be gone long and casually told the youngest to make Vin at home. And here he was sitting on an orange crate while the youngster, JD, chattered at him while he tried to encourage a smoldering, smelly fire in a burnt out old metal bucket with holes poked in its sides. Whole damn place was a fire trap.

"How long you been in town, Vin?"

He looked at JD as he fed another screwed-up piece of newspaper into the pitiful fire. The boy seemed the youngest of this odd family by at least a couple of years. Well, he _looked_ about eleven, though Vin suspected he might be older. JD was small and had a round, smooth face and a lack of guile even more apparent than Buck's. Thick, overlong black hair fell into his eyes continually, and he flicked it back with unconscious gestures. It reminded Vin of a mustang with a long, black forelock on a ranch near Aunt Nettie's where he'd earned after-school money. He felt a pang of homesickness, but shook it away.

"Six weeks or so. How about you?"

It was easy to get the kid to talk and divert him from asking questions. Vin learned they'd been on the street since JD was eleven. A question slipped in elicited the information that that was three years ago. Startled, he took a closer look at JD and figured he could just barely see him as fourteen maybe, though a small one with a particularly young-looking face. Vin was pretty sure he hadn't looked that young when he was fourteen.

JD right now was a year or so younger than Vin had been when he headed out onto the street by himself. He thought of how extra tough it must have been living on the streets at only eleven, and was impressed with just how much stronger JD must be than he looked, not only to have survived, but to be so seemingly open and happy with it all, too. He was like a good deal smaller version of Buck, somehow. They even shared the thick dark hair, though JD's eyes were dark brown rather than dark blue. Vin doubted JD would ever approach Buck's height, either, but, still....

"You related to Buck?"

JD looked up, blinking at being interrupted mid-chatter, but he recovered quickly. "Nah. People think that all the time. Dunno why. It ain't like him and me are anything alike!" He shrugged and poked another squiggle of newspaper into the fire. "He's been acting like my big brother since we met, though." An affectionate smile curved JD's soft lips up at the corners. "Figure the luckiest day of my life was when I was put in the same group home as Buck and Chris. I was eight and my mom had just died--cancer. My cousin was supposed to take me in, but then she said she couldn't because the piddling amount the state paid for foster kids just wasn't enough to make it worthwhile."

His voice trailed off moodily and he hunched his shoulders, looking a lot like the hurt little boy he must've been back then. With the mercurial swift change in mood that seemed to follow his quicksilver thoughts, JD abruptly straightened and grinned again.

"Buck was the one who made me see it was a good thing she was so nasty. If she'd taken me in the way my momma thought she was gonna, I'd never've met Buck. Never have got me a proper family again, neither. Buck just says we're all meant to be together. 'course, Chris just says Buck's got a thing for strays. He don't mean it, though. Chris and Buck have been friends forever."

While JD chattered on, flooding Vin with personal information on all these guys, Vin looked at the other member of the odd little family.

"That's Ezra," was all Buck had said, indicating the fourth boy.

Ezra looked about Vin's age, though he was smaller built; it was hard to tell how close in age they were. Ezra hadn't said a word, just looked at him with the biggest and greenest eyes Vin had ever seen, and nodded briefly. Ezra hadn't said anything while Buck and Chris got ready to go out, arguing over what to get for dinner with JD's higher voice chiming in to make a happy din in the place. Ezra hadn't said anything in the joshing byplay between Buck and JD that screamed out the affection between the pair. He hadn't said anything when Buck waved a hearty goodbye, winked at Vin, and left. He hadn't even said anything when Chris had paused to lean over him and run a hand over Ezra's dark hair, his fingers lingering on Ezra's cheek for a moment. Ezra had just looked up at Chris and nodded. Then Chris, the other quiet one of the four, had followed Buck out the door, shrugging into a faded denim jacket that wouldn't be much use in shielding him from either the cold or the wet.

Ezra still hadn't said a word. He sat on an orange crate against the wall, leaning back with his eyes closed. Vin studied him. He was a good looking guy, but he looked a mite sickly. He didn't have any of Buck's and JD's healthy glow or enthusiasm or warmth. He didn't look or act anything like them, either; no mistaking him for a brother or cousin. His hair was darker than Vin's, but not as dark as Buck's and JD's thick mops, and it was shorter, though a little ragged in a way that suggested it was kept short by less professional means than a barber's. Vin knew all about hacking off his hair with a knife, but he couldn't imagine doing it with hair that short. Ezra's features were kind of more...delicate, so to speak, than any of the others', too. He even seemed to have slightly better clothes. His pants were dark cords that looked both warmer and more whole than the torn jeans the rest of them wore, even young JD, and he was huddled into a red jacket that looked thicker and in better shape than what any of the rest of them had.

"I hope Buck and Chris get back soon." JD's grumbling voice drew his eyes back to the boy's expressive face, which was now in a petulant frown that made him look like a little kid again. "I'm starving." He giggled, and his face transmuted into a happy elfin look. "This one time, Buck said, 'I'm ravishing!' He just all of a sudden announced it, you know: 'I'm ravishing!' We all just stared at him because, like, none of us understood what he meant until Ezra rolled around on the floor laughing and explained it. Buck'd got mixed up and meant he was 'ravenous,' see, which Ezra said means hungry, but what Buck was really saying was--"

Mention of Ezra's actually speaking, never mind laughing, drew Vin's eyes back to the silent figure at the other side of the room just in time to see Ezra abruptly fall from the crate to the floor with a loud thump. He was shaking and rolling around, his whole body spasming, and Vin stared in astonishment. He jerked his eyes to JD as the youngster jumped to his feet and ran across the room to Ezra. Vin stood and took a couple of steps closer, watching as JD grabbed Ezra's shoulders and leaned close over him.

"It's okay, Ezra. I've got you. You're okay. It's okay."

JD's voice was a calming murmur as he reached out and gave the orange crate, its sharp edge close to Ezra's head, a shove that sent it sliding away across the floor. JD pulled the zipper on Ezra's jacket down a few inches and slipped his hand inside. He seemed to be rubbing Ezra's chest, his hand as soothing as his voice:

"Easy, easy. It'll be okay. I'm here. I gotcha."

JD didn't look anything like a little kid now. His mobile face looked as mature as his competent manner as he dealt with whatever was happening with Ezra. Keeping a hand on Ezra, JD stretched out towards the blankets messily piled on the nearest of the mattresses. They were just beyond his reach. Vin finally got over enough of his startlement to move. He went to the mattress and reached for a blanket.

"No, the quilt." JD's voice kept the same soft tone even as he addressed Vin.

Vin dropped the blanket and threw the others aside until he found an old quilt that seemed to be thicker than anything else and was moderately clean. He shook it out and took it to JD, who took it with a nod without moving his focus from Ezra. JD laid it down and lifted Ezra's head to slide part of it underneath, like a pillow; Vin watched, then folded the rest over Ezra. JD glanced up with a smile for his efforts and Vin flipped the corner of the quilt over Ezra's thrashing foot.

The fit seemed to be ending, whatever it was. The jerking stopped and Ezra went still, panting, eyes blinking rapidly, chest heaving. JD went on soothing him with hands and voice as he pushed Ezra to roll onto his side, adjusting the quilt as Ezra moved and settled. JD smoothed a curl of hair off Ezra's forehead, and he bent close as Ezra's eyes fluttered open. Or, half-open, at least. They looked glassy and unfocused and a little wild.

"Easy, I'm here. It's over. It's okay now."

"Chris?" Ezra's voice was slurred and faint.

"Nah, it's JD. Chris and Buck'll be back soon. Just relax. It's okay."

JD's hand went on massaging Ezra's chest inside the jacket as it heaved with the panicked speed of a frightened animal.

"Buck?"

"Buck's gone with Chris to get food. Chris'll be home soon. Let's get you to bed and you can sleep, okay?"

Vin watched as JD struggled to pull Ezra to his feet. Ezra was as uncoordinated as a punch-drunk man, and, while not tall like Buck, he was bigger than JD. Vin stepped in when Ezra stumbled back down to one knee, his head hanging low, panting. JD kept hold of him, which was all that saved Ezra from slamming face-first into the floor. JD cast a sharp look at Vin when he stepped forward, and Vin realized for the first time that a Doberman lurked inside the friendly puppy JD seemed to be at first glance.

Vin somberly indicated his readiness to help and waited for JD's nod of acceptance before slipping a hand under Ezra's arm and pulling him up. JD pulled Ezra's other arm over his shoulder and Ezra leaned heavily on JD, the two of them moving together familiarly, but Vin took as much of Ezra's weight as he could and helped keep him on his feet and on a straight course for the mattresses.

JD kicked the blankets aside and they lowered Ezra to the bed. JD had pulled the quilt along with them by one hand, and he quickly and efficiently tucked it snugly around Ezra, who'd curled up on his side again, then spread another blanket over the top. Vin stood and took a step back, not wanting to crowd them, and watched. Ezra's dark lashes still fluttered against his pale cheeks, his eyes never quite managing to open fully, but seeming reluctant to close entirely. He was still panting lightly, too, a thin coating of sweat making his face gleam as though he'd run a fast race. JD knelt on the edge of the mattress, his small body curved over Ezra's blanket-wrapped figure like a protective overhang on a building.

"Go to sleep, Ezra. It's okay now. Everything's okay. Close your eyes. Chris'll be back soon. Go to sleep. Go to sleep."

His voice, with its lilting rhythm like a lullaby, and his hand stroking Ezra's face and hair had its effect as, with a sigh, Ezra's body finally lost the last of its tension and he fell asleep. JD sat back and ran a hand over his face, looking older than his fourteen years now, and weary and anxious. Vin turned away and headed to the pathetic fire in a bucket to give the boy some privacy. He heard a sniff behind him, but ignored it as he rolled and twisted sheets of newspaper into pretzels and fed them into the flames until they caught, then added thin kindling from the small hoard of wood dumped beside the bucket. When JD joined him, the fire was burning merrily and the room was lighter and cheerier, if also a tad smoky.

JD turned to look and his face lit up with a happy smile as he demanded to know how Vin had got it going, which gave them something distracting to talk about, keeping their voices low as Ezra slept.

They both tensed and went quiet, though, when thumps sounded on the stairs. Vin turned sharply to the doorway, standing up in a fluid movement and slipping his right hand into his jacket pocket. His fingers closed around his switchblade, his index finger finding the button with practiced ease. Then he stood, feet braced apart, alert and ready as he waited to see if friend or danger was going to come through the door.

JD stood beside him, equally poised, face wary, probably with a hand on some hidden weapon of his own. JD took a couple steps to the side so he was between the door and the mattress Ezra was sleeping on. Vin felt a mix of emotions seeing that move, impressed with both the kid's street-savviness and protectiveness, but saddened, too, that JD had learned to live this way so damned young.

Then Buck's hearty voice sounded as he called, "Chris and Buck incoming!" and Vin relaxed as JD went to the door with his smile restored, looking again like a carefree kid.


End file.
